


Noble

by AutumnJolene



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Developing Friendships, Family, Gen, Happy moments - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, I tried to input all characters that show up more than once, Jedi healer, Not A Happy Ending, Sad moments, Trauma, all about the 212 battalion family, and the CG, especially with the CG, love the boys in red gold and gray respectively, may add to that, not fully written but almost, not intentionally a fix-it, not too much 501 action sorry, plenty of ocs - Freeform, updates once a week, we get to see the 104 too
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:00:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29273610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AutumnJolene/pseuds/AutumnJolene
Summary: A healer from the Temple has joined the 212th battalion. Many are eager to meet her, but doubts stir at the sight of their newest and shortest member. Kenobi seems unbothered by this and slowly, the rest come to see exactly what she can do. But such gifts are a double-edged sword and her blessing comes with an unfortunate curse.
Relationships: 104th Battalion | Wolfpack Battalion & Plo Koon, 212th Attack Battalion & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Clone Troopers & Jedi Character(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi & OC, Plo Koon & oc, background obi-wan kenobi/cc-2224| cody
Kudos: 27





	1. Healer

**Author's Note:**

> 30 chapters is an estimate right now and it may fluctuate just a little bit. 
> 
> For the record, the 501 doesn't appear too often and primarily in the beginning, while the CG comes in more towards the end. The 104 is kind of sprinkled in cause I love Papa Plo. I included characters that appear or will appear in more than one chapter. More to be added, of course. 
> 
> I'm not done writing, but I have ten chapters typed up and am actively writing the seventeenth one right now. I will update once a week, maybe twice whenever I finish writing it.

Marshal Commander Cody of the Third System Army paused just outside the door, a rather sturdy, but standard door, just like any other on the ship. Except this one, in particular, housed the leading general of the entire Third System Army and had excused himself to take an important and possibly personal meeting. The type Cody knew best not to disturb. 

Unfortunately, Cody couldn't handle the mess currently on the bridge by himself. Not when he had officers - nat-born officers - questioning every idea out of his mouth. Even Waxer had been giving him pitiful side glances. 

One of the newer recruits had called him off the bridge, leading him into the hallway where he could escape to grab General Kenobi. The shiny had meant no insult by it and Cody took it as it was. It still stung to know even a shiny, barely on board a few days, could tell he had no authority without the General. 

Cody rasped his knuckles against the metal. He barely made a sound. He tried again. A bit louder this time. Almost at a normal volume. His heart thudded uncomfortably behind his ribs. He hated this. Interrupting his Jedi's business especially when said Jedi made it very clear how important it was to not be disturbed. That had been an hour ago, so hopefully, all would be forgiven.

It took only a few moments before his General swooshed open the door, a half glower on his face. Kenobi paused, taking in the full image of a clone before him. Probably already coming to terms with a disturbance just from whatever his force abilities could sense. 

“Cody?” Any irritation vanished, replaced by a deep concern and a hint of pity. 

“Sorry, General, but you are needed on the bridge.” Cody sidestepped to allow Kenobi to join him in the hallway. 

“Of course…” The General cleared his throat and shut his door behind him. 

Typically, Kenobi asked Cody to lead the way, often taking a position behind the clone’s right shoulder. This time he marched down the hall, robes trailing after him. 

Cody felt an edge to the Jedi. Its source eluded him. Natural officers and clone officers often bickered, making this situation not at all unique. 

On the bridge, Kenobi kept a stoicness about him. The Admiral’s aggression lost in the face of the cold-stone Negotiator. 

“I have an important announcement.” Everyone stopped. They expected to be dismissed. “An important person will be joining us. A child of the Temple.” Minds whirled at the news. A padawan? “She is young and not fit for active duty on the ground. However, she has been a most exceptional student of the healers on Coruscant. I expect everyone to be on their best behavior and to make her feel welcome.” 

A chorus of ‘yes, sir’ followed. 

* * *

Cody waited with bated breath. He’d been commed hours ago to wait for both the General and the newest edition to their crew. No sign of them yet. 

“Commander?” Waxer came to stand by his side. 

“Just sidetracked. They’ll be here shortly.” The Lieutenant scrunched his nose up at the almost automatic response. “Jedi-stuff.” A snort followed. 

Waxer stood to attention as a speeder rolled up. 

Cody walked down the ramp of the transport as Kenobi helped a young girl from her seat. His eyes scoured over her figure, frowning at her small stature and the unrecognizable telltale signs of her species. 

Human by appearance, two arms, two legs, a very symmetrical face framed by dark hair, her wine-colored skin was his first clue to her possibly mixed heritage. Three mulberry dots lined her left eye, not particularly noticeable until he stood before her. Perhaps inked by tradition? But, there were patches of lavender and white stretching across her arms, neck, and onto her chin. He’d never seen any species with such a look before.

He frowned at how frail she appeared. A terrible feeling shredded his stomach at the finely crafted crane she clutched in her right hand. 

“General.” Cody provided a quick, but courteous salute. 

“At ease, Cody.” Kenobi smiled at his commander. “This is Aishah Nor Zara Teuku, one of the youngest healers of the Temple.”

Aishah’s dark eyes avoided him, but she mumbled a greeting. 

“Pleasure.” The Commander turned his attention back to Kenobi. “A bit late, sir.”

“Apologies.” Kenobi scrunched his nose in distaste, “the council held me longer than expected.”

They quickly boarded, hurrying to meet the others for another campaign.

The Negotiator was much bigger than Aishah expected. She had grown up in the winding hallways and towering stories of the Temple, but the corridors of the ship were sterile. A cookie-cutter door for every room and no real sense of direction. It didn’t help she had exhausted herself preparing that morning at a time she would usually be resting. 

Master Kenobi gently guided her around to the mess hall, the med-bay, and lastly, where their rooms were. His room was a few doors from her own, spacious in a way that represented his status, crowded with datapads and used teacups -  _ was that a coffee mug? Kenobi prefers tea _ \- that represented his status in a different light. 

Aisha narrowed her eyes at her sparse room. A small desk with a rather comfy looking chair - perfect. Space to roll out her mat and meditate - very nice. But the narrow bunk overflowing with frilly pillows and blankets…

“Did you tell them?” She set her sack on the desk. 

“You asked me not to.” Aishah nodded, grateful. “I made sure the mess hall is stocked properly for your diet and tomorrow, I will introduce you to Quicten, the CMO. You’ve been up longer than you should have, please rest.” 

She turned, ready to argue that she should meet this Quicten today. 

“General.” Commander Cody loomed in the doorway. 

“Ah, yes, of course. Thank you, Cody.” Kenobi leveled a kind gaze on her, but it aired with authority. “Rest, Aishah.” 

The door slid shut and she could hear the thudding of their feet against metal plating fade. 

Aishah set to unpacking and fixing her bed. Mostly tucking the pillows and blankets under the frame. 

* * *

The night cycle of the ship was nothing like the Temple. Serene silence pierced by the occasional nightlife that rose from the depths of the planet versus the deafening silence that even the hum of the engines could not break. 

She knew she would grow used to it in due time, but for now, it unsettled her. 

Meditating had been helpful, but the pang of hunger followed by the loud gurgling of her stomach drew her from the floor. She stretched her back, then summoned her cane to her side and strapped on her boots. 

Aishah wandered the halls, hopelessly lost. Her earlier tour had been quick and the Fore wasn’t helping. Well, rather, her hunger interfered with her focus. Her masters would scoff at the excuse. 

She turned the corner, nearly smacking into a trooper. He jumped back, just startled as her. His helmet hid any emotion, but she felt his surprise, shortly followed by irritation. 

“Sorry.”

His shoulders sagged a bit. 

“It’s uh… alright. You’re the Jedi healer, yes?” Aishah nodded to which he continued, “where are you heading?”

“The mess hall.” Her curt answer was followed by the loud grumbling of her stomach. 

The trooper chuckled and gestured for her to follow. She wasn’t too far off. He left her to eat, not even providing his name. She brushed it off. Another time, then.

“General?” Halfway into the day cycle, Cody passed Kenobi a worried glance. “Is… Is Aishah awake yet? Quicten said she hadn’t visited the med-bay yet.” 

Kenobi checked the time. 

“No, she will be up in the next hour. Odd medic schedules.” He waved away the concern. 

“Sir…?” Kenobi felt his doubt radiating out beside him. 

“Aishah is a bright student,” he began with reassurances. He knew the cane often put others off. “There is not much left to teach that experience would do better and she has spent the past year in hospitals with the terminally ill. Easing their passing.” Cody raised a brow at that. “Her mission is to help not only the troops but the refugees as well.”

The explanation eased some of Cody’s doubts about the child. Guilt replaced the doubt shortly. He had gotten to know the Jedi fairly well, not just his Jedi, but several others on and off the council. Surely, they would not send a child to a war zone without good reason. 

“You are not wrong to ask, Cody,” voice low, Kenobi gave him a reassuring smile and brushed their shoulders together. 

Kenobi returned his attention to the battle plans laid out. 

Around the mid-meal, both general and commander stopped by Aishah’s room. She was clean and ready for the day, having been busily rearranging books on her datapad. She joined their walk to the mess hall. 

Kenobi leisurely strolled the corridors. Cody found himself having to consciously slow his pace and he shot several, ignored, puzzled side glances. Then, he remembered their smaller member. She still walked with her cane and reminded him of another small Jedi. 

Today, her black hair hung low down her back in a loose ponytail and gave him a clear view of her face. A child’s face with chubby cheeks and small, dark eyes. Unlike the other day, the lavender patches of skin had grown darker, highlighting the white. A bit of energy flowed in her step. 

Two troopers marched down the hall, sidestepping to salute the commanding officers. Aishah recognized one of them as the man who helped her yesterday. At his rigid posture and formality with the general and commander, she refrained from greeting him outright. 

Perhaps only the higher officers were friendly with one another. Friendlier, anyway. She had yet to see anything other than a tightly professional atmosphere.

Kenobi guided her to the droids in charge, explaining how she could order her specific meals. Then, he carried their trays over to an empty table. She sat sandwiched between the two as more joined them. Specifically, Lieutenant Waxer, Boil, and Wooley. They were skittish at first until Cody let out a heavy sigh and told them to sit. 

They conversed around her, joking and shoving each other. A few more joined - she would have to recall their names later - and before long roaring laughter erupted from the table. 

It felt warm. Their bodies were bright bundles of fabric, cut straight from the Force itself. 

A man wedged his way in to sit directly across from Aishah. Hair buzzed until only the fuzzy scruff covered his scalp, he wore an angry scar across his eye and back to a chipped ear. 

“Ah! Quicten!” Kenobi placed a warm hand on her back. “This is Aishah, the healer I spoke of.” 

The medic gave her a once over. 

“Nice to meet you. General Kenobi showed me your resume. Impressive.”

Her mouth twisted down, brows furrowing for only a moment before her expression relaxed and a shy smile brightened her face. 

“After this, Quic will get you set up. Not much to do I’m afraid, but familiarize yourself with the ship.” The Jedi Master reassured her with a soft pat. 

“We can help,” Waxer volunteered his brethren. Boil elbowed him, but he brushed it off. 

“Thank you,” soft, her thanks made the rest smile. Even Boil.

Quicten led her to the med-bay, any injured having been treated or transferred out. He showed her the medicines and equipment, not that she would use them, but she at least had access if necessary. 

He returned to his desk to finish last-minute reports. She followed him, settling on one of the cots branching from his office. They were mostly used to treat incidents that didn’t require logging time in the med-bay. 

Aishah folded her legs in, placing her hands on her knees. She seemed content to wait around and meditate. 

After some time, he glanced from his work, watching as she broke from her trance to double over. A hand came up to rub at her chest. She shuddered a deep sigh. 

“Aishah?” Quicten stood, his training hitting the back of his brain at full force. 

“It’s okay.” She stopped him before he could round the corner of his desk. 

Aishah glanced around the space, eyes dancing as she searched. She stretched out her fingers and drew a few spare bottles to her. They floated around her in a slow circle. 

“Don’t break anything.” His warning fell on deaf ears as she returned to her trance. 

Quic returned to his work.

Just as he set aside one of the last datapads, someone walked in. The beginnings of a bruise was forming along the side of his face. His shoulders were slumped, his hair falling into his eyes and hiding his signature star tattoo on his temple. Little Racer. Likes to go fast, hit hard, and end up in the med-bay five times a day. 

“Another gym accident?” Quicten narrowed his eyes on Racer, a tic in his jaw starting.

Before he could answer, Commander Cody came rushing in, shoving another trooper inside. 

“A fight, Quic.” Peeking around them, Cody caught Aishah’s eye. “No Force healing for them. Just ointment for the bruises, a good scolding,” he smirked towards Quicten, “and then off to latrine duty.” 

Cody felt a warm presence at his back, racing up his spine to raise the hairs on his neck. He couldn’t stop the irritation from twitching his eye.

“General…” He couldn’t see the Jedi, but he didn’t have to. That warm feeling retreated as Kenobi defensively brought up his hands to wave him down. “You should be finishing that report.” 

“I am only checking in, Commander.” Kenobi teased a smile. “My reports are finished. Promise.” 

This time Cody turned to look him in the eye. He couldn’t find a lie behind that smile… which meant it probably was a lie. 

“Aishah?” Kenobi leaned to find where she sat, ignoring Cody’s obvious annoyance. “If you’re bored, you can come with me.” 

Aishah pushed the bottles back to the shelves she pulled them from. Wordlessly, she slid past the troopers and out the door, cane in tow. 

The door shut closed. 

“I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to use the Force like that.” A sharp smack landed on the back of the trooper’s head. “Ow!”

“Keep it up and you won’t receive anything for your busted knuckles,” Quicten growled low. 

Racer chuckled low. Whatever altercation between them, forgotten.

“And consider double latrine duty. Both of you.” Cody promptly left, leaving both troopers jaw slacken. 


	2. Broken Femurs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have Grammarly turned on and it gives me a scale for each mood it detects in what I write which is helpful for my emails and such... It decided that this chapter is sad (4/5), informative (4/5), and formal (2/5). 
> 
> P.S. It also decided that this A/N is worried (2/5). Not sure what that means, but I honestly can't get over the little emojis in the corner of my screen XD

“ _Mercy, peace, and justice_.”

Troopers ran about preparing shuttles to aid the planetary battle. Occasionally, the battleship rocked from the small defenses the Separatists managed. 

“ _Cherish and protect us_.”

Her soft melody fell on deaf ears. The chaos consumed them. 

“ _Battle-born, they send us_.”

Quicten would be calling for her soon. She felt his urgency rising. It drew closer each second. The injured would be flooding in. 

“ _Covered in our noble blood_.” 

Her voice fell silent as Commander Cody stepped into the hangar. He took no notice, only focused on debriefing the pilots. 

The battle ahead would be bloody. 

“Aishah.” The sound of her name from the CMO drew Cody’s attention. 

“Then, it's time?” An age settled on her shoulders. The eleven year old faded. The youthfulness that peaked through these past days gave way to a weariness. 

It squeezed his heart. Is this what a full year trying to ease the terminal ill looked like?

“They’re about to board. It’s going to get hectic in here.” He nodded to the door.

Aishah followed him without comment, ignoring Cody’s piercing gaze. 

The numbers weren’t as bad as Aishah expected. Not all would live to see the next cycle, but she pushed herself to do what she could. 

When the fighting ceased and the ship stopped rocking, an admiral appeared at the door. The sight of him sent a shiver through Aishah - she hadn’t done anything. No, he received orders from General Kenobi. _Strict_ orders. 

Aishah sighed, returning to her room without protest. She needed to rest, but the work was overwhelming and never ending. It felt wrong to leave even if Quicten saw her off with a ration bar. 

Despite being in the middle of a battle, Kenobi still had his chrono set to her schedule. One he was warned he’d _have_ to enforce. 

“Irony.”

“Hypocrite.” 

Kenobi ignored the snickers that followed. 

“Having to babysit while all the way down here?” Anakin sniggered.

“Let’s stay focused.”A part of him flared in embarrassment while a larger part of him flared in annoyance in her defense. He quickly sent both on their way. 

He could have given the Admiral her schedule with orders to enforce it, but knowing the man as he did, it would be the lowest priority during a battle. 

“Rex, report!” The 501st Captain jogged up at the call.

“Well, we have the area secure… for now.” The dust settling around them. “But, we took some heavy casualties.” Both Jedi winced at the news and Cody sighed from behind them.

They all knew it was coming. 

Wounded were being treated as transports prepared to take them. Many of the transports that brought them here would be ironically taking them back, on stretchers. Aishah would hopefully be rested to return to her duties before they arrived. 

“Who is Aishah?” As soon as she had a moment, Ashoka saddled up next to Commander Cody. 

“A healer from the Temple.” Adding on when her look of confusion grew, “she’s eleven, but excelling in her studies and was granted permission to learn more on the field.”

“Master Kenobi, I didn’t know you were a healer.” Her statement drew him from Anakin to address her. 

“Oh, she’s passed my level of teaching.”

That drew attention, some troopers eavesdropping stopped to glance at him. 

“Really?” Anakin crossed his arms, half doubtful, half impressed. 

“Yes, well, it was Master Plo’s idea. She’s been asking to gain experience outside hospitals and the healing halls. Due to the hot spot he’s currently in, they thought her safer with me.” Before he could be asked, he tacked on, “I’m sure you two will get to meet.”

His assurance was met with a large and excited grin from his grandpadawan. 

* * *

The hospitals had a sort of chaos to them. Pain saturated the air. Much like now. 

Aishah managed her first shift in the med-bay well. However, it was only a fraction of the chaos she faced now. More and more transports flooded the place. Her earlier rest helped, along with the four ration bars she shoved down. Quicten was more or less concerned but occupied. 

The patient in front of her groaned in agony. His bone protruded from shredded blacks - armor being removed, of course. According to him, a blast sent him flying, the landing rough. Enough to cause a spiral fracture she currently observed on his femur. However, when being dragged from the field… he didn’t continue, but she could assume how the bone was pushed to break skin. 

Aishah breathed deeply, used to the smell of bacta and sterile air. She moved with the Force. The Force around them, the one that built within herself, and the bit that clung to his cells. 

Clones they may be to the eye, but clones they were not to those that saw with the Force. His frequency remained unique in the face of his brothers and she used that to guide his bone back into place and knit it together. 

“Aishah!” Muddle by the Force, the shout went unheard.

She moved to the ripped tendons, the torn muscles, the-

“Aishah!”

-the fatty tissue within. Finally, the skin. She did not pull away until the last of his cells connected and the Force no longer rang with such intense pain. 

Aishah blinked, registering the hand on her shoulder. Grounding herself, she reached up to swat at the tickles in her nose. Something wet stuck to her hand. 

Blood.

A gentle hand tilted her head. 

Quicten. 

The Chief Medical Officer. 

_Fast on his feet and quick with his words_ , Boil said. 

_A damn good medic_ , Cody had added on. 

Wooley had chuckled, about to tell her how Quicten got his name when Crys and Longshot stopped him - Crys claimed it was to save his life. 

Aishah blinked again, refocusing. Quicten fetched a cloth before kneeling in front of her. He patted at her nose, cleaning the blood from her lips and chin. 

Odd silence fell around them. Only broken by the surprise of a trooper behind her.

“And she’s just a kid.”

“Eleven,” someone added.

“Damn…”

Quicten worked faster. As soon as he cleaned the last of the blood, he called for someone to take her. The trooper, a shiny, hesitantly picked her up from the stool she sat on and cradled her to his chest. She made no protests, head spinning as they moved. Her cane dangled in one of his hands. 

While Quicten would prefer her under his scrutiny, Kenobi left strict instructions. Always return her to her room unless it warranted different action. The type he’d need to contact the General for. Not that he wouldn’t be in an emergency meeting with the Jedi as soon as he could arrange it. 

The clone set her down as gently as possible. Soft, cool cushions greeted her. 

“Thank you.”

“Of course, sir.” Her brows furrowed at that. “I’m CT-12746.” Her confusion grew. “If you need anything.” Stiff, he promptly walked out. 

When Aishah returned the following cycle, fresh from the mess hall, Quicten blocked her path.

“No.” Arms crossed he glared down at her. 

“But-”

“Absolutely not. You’re eleven.” Quicten shook his head, running a hand through his scruffy hair. “Head back to your room and leave this work to the adults.” 

Refusing to listen to her and shutting down any of her attempts to argue, Quicten summoned a guard to escort her back to her room. It was CT-12746, again. 

His friends just called him Seven. He had yet to think of a better name and nothing really stuck with him except for Seven. 

“Sorry you can’t help out, but it's probably better you wait for General Kenobi to return.” He gave her a small pat on her back before leaving her at her door. 

It felt a bit patronizing. 

General Kenobi and his commander would be gone for a while. A few cycles at most. 

Aishah sat on her bunk, cheeks puffed and frustration in her eyes. She rubbed absent-mindedly at her chest. Pain flared. Her heart thumped louder. She felt tired but reached out to float a few items around her. For now, mediation would keep her occupied.


	3. Secrets

“Quicten, you know I trust your advice under normal circumstances-”

“Her nose was bleeding!” His fist slammed against the table, blue holograms flickering. Everyone on the bridge froze.

Cody sent the medic a glare that would have made shinies wet themselves. Thankfully, Quicten did appear a bit sheepish and it curbed the commander’s tongue. 

“I am aware.” Kenobi calmly hid his hands in the sleeves of his robe. “You were right to send her to her room for rest, but you cannot ban her from her duties. She is allowed, by the Council, to treat the wounded between the mid-meal and late-meal.”

“She’s a child.”

Kenobi winces. So was Quicten, and Cody, and Waxer, and Boil, and Trapper, and Longshot-

“I know.” Somber, he returned his attention to the holomap and did his best to ignore the squeezing of his heart. “You don’t even know the half of it, Quic,” the comment came out in a single breath, so low that Cody who stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the Jedi strained to hear it.

After reviewing battle plans, Kenobi excused himself to meditate. Cody left the bridge himself, gut twisting. He knew his general withheld information about Aishah. Something that weighed heavily on the man’s shoulders and if it weighed on Kenobi’s, it weighed on Cody’s too. 

The next month gave way to some normalcy. Quicten kept an eye on Aishah, but did not interfere with her work. Aishah joined them mid-cycle, refreshed and walking upright. Her cane swung loosely in her hand, color returning to her skin, though Quic expressed deep concerns about the ever growing patches of pale skin. But, when she would limp in for late-meal, her eyes sunken, pigmentation disappearing, and cane bracing most of her weight, it ushered a wave of grief over the group. 

With the injured becoming few and more recovered troopers returning to the barracks, this burden thankfully lessened. 

Quickly, she’d make her way to get her meal and zip out of the mess hall, back to her room. If Kenobi joined them, he’d wave her over, but if not, she’d eat alone.

Until Waxer started cutting her off, grabbing her tray, and sandwiching her between Boil and himself. Cody intervened, keeping her close to him in case of another slapping match between the two. She’d taken a hit one time. Eyes teary, she had rubbed the offended area. That erupted even more fighting as Waxer apologized, fending off Wooley’s scoldings. 

One thing that bothered the troopers was how she never appeared for first-meal. Their little healer - a common endearment they picked up - never showed first thing in the cycle. While some of them had different schedules, often missing each other at meals, no one could ever say they saw her. Kenobi had answered their concerns with a warm smile and a soft light in his eyes. His skin crinkled, smile impossibly wide, and eyes incredibly bright to hear them call her Little Healer. 

“Odd hours,” Kenobi shrugged. “She eats early before most of you are up.”

So, now, the Marshall Commander of the 212th battalion waited outside Aishah’s door. His chrono told him he was up an hour earlier than he should be, dressed in nothing but his blacks and a bit of armor. Kenobi, thankfully, was persuaded to share her ‘odd’ schedule. 

The door slid open. Her cane tapped against the metal, her shawl wrapped around her tired body. 

“Aishah,” Cody greeted her. 

“Commander.” Her formality had yet to fade. Since a Jedi, he had expected her to take to calling him by his name, but she stubbornly persisted. 

“Would you mind if I walk with you?” She eyed him suspiciously for a moment and it gave him pause.

Why would such a request warrant scrutiny? 

“If you want.”

They walked in silence. Both nodded to the troopers they passed that paused to salute. 

Cody watched with silent interest as her meal was prepared. He gathered nothing but a ration bar for himself. 

When they sat down, Aishah didn’t touch her food. No, she stared at him. Eyebrows knitted together, her forehead wrinkled under her concentration.  She reached up, stretching to place the back of her hand to his temple. For a second, his eyes widened in surprise. Then, realization set in. 

“Clones naturally have a higher temperature.” 

“Oh?” How had she not come to that conclusion before? Their armor must have provided some kind of insulation. That and any troopers in the med-bay were injured and bound to have fevers. 

“Quicten didn’t tell you?” Or literally anyone else for that matter?

“We don’t speak much.” Her shoulders sagged a bit. “He’s still upset I’m here.”

“Well,” Cody thought for a moment, taking a bite of his breakfast, “I am glad you’re here.” He tacked on, remembering how most topics in the barracks were about her, “and I know the others are too.” 

He reached up, hesitating, before placing a hand on her head in a gentle pat. 

She scowled, but her irritation rolled right off his back and ignited a tickle in his chest. His chuckle came out small and short. Like this, annoyance radiating in the form of puffed cheeks, a manner of a child, Cody couldn’t help but be reminded she  _ was  _ a child.

Those talks of her in the barracks made her feel much taller than she actually stood. Her hard earned stoicness and professionalism battled to remain in the forefront in the face of the men’s antics. He wondered what it would take to pull the child from her and relax her guard around them. She declined any offers to join the sport competitions or movie nights. Something Kenobi reassured them she would in time. 

Cody questioned the General if perhaps what he said about Aishah not being fit for active duty had more to do with her health than her age. Kenobi never answered. 

* * *

“What are you two doing?”

Their eyes first landed on a small body wrapped in a wool shawl. Aishah. But the voice had been identical to their own. Dressed in their blacks, a taller figure stood behind her, arms crossed. Commander Cody.

“Sir!”

“Waxer. Wooley.” They were dressed for their shift, at least. And up on time.

Both were still crouched when Boil stepped out of the barracks. His brow twitched when he noticed the two on the floor. 

“Commander.” Boil gave a salute, then nodded to Aishah. “Little Healer.”

It was the first time someone addressed her like that. Her eyes widened at the title. 

“Morning, Mr. Boil.” Her gaze slid over to Waxer and Wooley, who scrambled to their feet. “Lieutenant Waxer. Mr. Wooley.”

Aishah rested both her hands on her cane. 

Waxer cleared his throat, “escorting her to her room, Commander? I can take over.”

“That won’t be necessary. Report for first-meal.” A chorus of ‘yes, sir’ followed. 

At Aishah’s door, Cody stopped her short. 

“There’s something you’re not telling us.” Aishah kept her gaze down. “But, as long as it’s not dangerous to my men, I won’t press the issue.” She caught his stern gaze. It softened to see the relief on her face. “Just, uh…  _ ask _ if you need anything.”

Because the only person it appeared to harm was her. Something that Cody found rather unacceptable, but had no choice except to live with it. 

Aishah smiled. The type that stretched her cheeks and flashed teeth, canines looking a bit sharp. Generally, sharp canines made Cody feel a bit threatened but paired with that tiny dimple on her left cheek, it was endearing. 

Cody returned her smile. 

“Thank you, Commander Cody.” She closed the door and toed off her boots. 

She rubbed at her chest. It had been the first thing to wake her before her stomach rumbled. Not having the energy, she crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to her chin. 

It was Quicten that waited for her outside the next time she woke. Aishah wrapped her shawl around her shoulders and picked up her cane from where it leaned against the wall. She kept her eyes down, pretending to adjust her attire as she stepped out of her room. 

“Hi, Mr. Quicten.” She refused to look at him, her words mumbled. 

“Did you sleep well? Quic placed his hands behind his back, shoulders straight.

A familiar stance. Some of the more rigid doctors had done similar. Cold. Impersonal.

Aishah had the privilege to meet Master Ti one time. The Togruta Jedi taught her a few pointers in healing and talked much about the compassion a Jedi should hold for all life. But, the Jedi Master mentioned the power of manipulation. Not necessarily in getting something from someone, but rather manipulating how that person viewed yourself. Mimicking a person’s stance, following their body language, and complimenting it, would allow both parties to be on the same wavelength. It made gaining trust or respect a bit easier. 

“Yes. Thank you.” She straightened herself, hand firm on her cane. “Are you in need of something?” The wordage felt off on her tongue. She forced it out. 

“No… well, actually, yes.” Quicten kept his pace slow, so as not to stress her. “I’ll be blunt if-”

“Please do.”

He nodded.

“Why did you want to transfer here? How, even? You’re not of age to be a padawan just yet.” He hoped he was allowed to ask. He’d never met a child of the Temple before… or any child for that matter. 

“I excelled at my studies,” she said simply. “The council believed experience would aid me and so, I split my time between the Temple and the hospital.”

“And you chose to work with the terminally ill.” 

“No,” she corrected him, tongue sharp. “The hospital admin did.”

“Where you couldn’t do anything.” Quicten could see it. Being surrounded by death and helpless to do anything. He’d been there himself.

The hospital admin shoved her off to the lead nurse. An older woman who rather looked pitiful in her scrubs, face wrinkled and white hair cut into an easy bob. They kept a professional distance. 

Aishah ate alone in the cafeteria. Half the time she couldn't stomach to eat. The stench of pain and pre-mortem mourning followed her. 

Doctors brush off her concerns and questions. Nurses were far too busy between their smoke breaks to bother. She came in, received her schedule, and visited the patients. 

Mending the frails’ broken bones or bruises. Meditating with those that asked. Even confirming patient death on more than one occasion. 

At one point, she's been shoved at a waiting family. Their loved one had not made it through a risky procedure. She did her best to provide comfort but the wife hurled insults instead.

_ Sending a child in place of a doctor! _

Aishah left early that day. She hid herself between the courtyard wall and a tree to cry alone. It became a recurring habit to send the difficult ones to her or the cases the doctors just couldn't find the time to handle. No one wanted a youngling to deliver the news or give condolences. 

Some days, meditating with the terminally ill was hard. But having to deal with grieving families, telling them their only option was to pull the plug…

She wished she never asked, but it was too late to back out. She needed to show something when her year ended. 

The feedback from the hospital was not exemplary. Rather fair. Disappointing. It was a wonder the council granted her this. 

“I could ease their pain,” Aishah’s quick defense caught the attention of others also heading to the mess hall. 

The backbone of the defense she provided to the council. 

Aishah ducked her head, heat creeping up her neck. An elbow gently nudged her arm. 

Quicten smiled down at her. His posture relaxed a great deal and a wave of comfort pulsated in the Force.

“It made for a depressing year,” she admitted quietly. 

“I bet.” Together, they headed inside, a bustle of troopers already in line. “There are rules in my med-bay. I’m still CMO, you know.” He flashed her a quick smile. “You may be excelling in your studies, but you’re still a kid, and I don’t want to see you hurt on my watch. So, let’s work with what you can, not overdo it, and leave the messy stuff to my medics.”

“Deal.” An excitement lit her eyes at their truce. 

Quicten mussed her hair, receiving small slaps to his hand. He laughed as she combed her hair with her fingers. He glanced to their usual table, catching Cody’s nod of approval along with Kenobi’s grateful smile. 


	4. Nat-Borns

“Aishah!” Quicten called for her a few cots down.

She didn’t sway or even stutter in her short jog to him. Must have been adrenaline. She should have been resting an hour ago, but in the chaos, she managed to stay. Wrappers peeked out of her pockets. A substitute for her proper late-meal. A poor substitute. 

Bloody hands smeared her tan robes, a thumb rubbing a spot on her lower cheek. Quicten held her in front of him, eyes searching. Whatever he found satisfied him. He nodded once. 

“I need you to go to the bridge. The Commander isn’t responding.” He wiped his hands on his stained pants. “We don’t have any more room for the wounded. The cots are full and the hallway is filling up. They’ll have to stay on the transports or something. I don’t know.”

The fighting had ceased some time ago. Wounded from the surrounding battlefield poured onto the battleship. Some even came from the planetary war below where ceasefires had given the chance. 

Kenobi led a losing fight, but their pilots would be giving air support as soon as they refueled. But, if transports were still full of wounded, no reinforcement squadrons would reach the ground. 

It troubled Aishah. 

“But-”

Quicten shook his head. 

“We’re the only active med-bay, Aishah. The others are still under repair.” Thanks to a Separatist ambush. “We can’t just send them back down either.”

“I’ll see if the Commander has a solution.” Aishah hurried out of the room. 

She did her best not to step on anyone piled out into the hall. Their pain rang around her, beaconing her. Their groans, pleas for help. 

She choked on a sob and slammed the controls to the elevator. It took longer than it should have. Inside, she wiped at her tears and pushed her sniffles aside. 

Aishah leaned against the wall. She sighed, reaching for her cane… A cane left forgotten in the med-bay. Another sigh escaped her. The energy that kept her going seeped from her muscles. A new protest came from them. They needed rest. 

When the elevators opened, she could make out yelling. Expletives were thrown about, reaching past the metal door. 

“And we do not have the room!”

“ _And_ General Kenobi needs reinforcements.”

The turmoil flooded her senses. Another explosion of anger between the Commander and the Admiral rang in her ears. 

Waxer noticed her first. Eyes widening at the blood smeared across her face, he left his station to check on her. 

“I’m okay.” Her dazed expression and puffy eyes told differently. 

“Maybe you-”

“What is _she_ doing up here?” The eyes that had been focused on the two officers’ argument now watched her. 

“Um…” Waxer guided her forward she could lean on the console. “Mr. Quicten says we have no more room. Wounded are piling in the hallway-”

“See?” The Admiral straightened up and crossed his arms. “Where do you suppose we deposit your brethren, Commander?” He huffed at Cody’s lack of response, though he didn’t give much time for one. “General Kenobi is aware of our situation, he will do with what he has.”

Cody ground his teeth at the jab, but to hear he contacted the general behind his back? His nostrils flared. 

“You did what?” Waxer stiffened behind Aishah at the fury punctuating every word, yet Cody’s voice never raised above normal volume.

“General Kenobi is fully aware. He has a right to be.”

Aishah felt her stomach drop. The Force screamed a warning. 

It’s like Waxer heard it too, because he growled low, “Commander,” and placed a hand on Aishah’s shoulder. 

Cody finally settled his gaze on her. Dark hair pulled loose from her ponytail. Eyes were a bit red, a bit puffy - crying. She’d been crying. The bloody clothes hit him the hardest. That red smear on her lower cheek. All pigmentation fled awhile ago, he assumed, under the pressure of her duties. That little smear contrasting against pale skin...

_Oh, Force… She’s just a kid. Just a kid._

Cody couldn’t tear his eyes away from her disheveled appearance. 

“I believe you should return to your duties, Aishah. The bridge is no place for a child.” The Admiral’s dismay hit low. 

The bridge was no place for her, but the med-bay, filled with dying soldiers was?

Aishah’s shoulders sagged, head tucking in. The blood rushed through her head drowning out the mechanical beeping of the command center. She needed to go rest. 

“Quicten sent her up here, she can stay,” Cody shot back. 

“Commander?” Head heavy, she managed to look up at him. “Do you have a solution?”

His eyes turned soft and he glanced away. 

Aishah reached forward, calling Quicten. 

“Mr. Quic?”

“Aishah? What is it? I don’t-”

“Quicten,” she stopped him, tone weak, but firm. “Can we use the barracks?”

“For what?” Even the officers around her appeared puzzled.

“For the wounded,” her exasperated tone made Waxer chuckle. “I know it might make treatment difficult but we can put those of lower priority in the barracks or even rotate them out. Start a schedule.”

It would only be temporary. 

“Not sure the others will like sharing their bunk.” Aishah did not find the comment humorous in the slightest and shot the Admiral a chiding glare. Not that it stopped his mouth from quirking up. 

He probably wanted to know how she’d respond to that. Or would Cody speak up at the commanding officer?

Which, Cody did open his mouth to speak in her defense, but Aishah beat him to it. Not like this hadn’t happened before. 

“Well,” she kept her eyes on the Admiral the entire time, “Mr. Quicten, if you hear of any complaints, then please let me know.” 

No one would, not after she healed a trooper’s bone, pushing it back in and knitted him clean with barely a visible scar. 

“I will.” One could hear the smirk in his tone. “I’ll get started on moving them around.”

“I’ll be down shortly to help.”

“No,” his anger made her flinch, “you _will_ go rest. No ‘but’s.”

Cody cursed as realization struck him. 

“You’re an hour over,” the Commander narrowed his eyes on her, the chiding lost on his tongue at the bloody sight of her. 

Aishah yelped as Waxer patted her down. He held up an empty ration bar package. 

“And she missed her meal.” 

The Admiral appeared less than pleased. This little charade would be reported to the higher ups. Her presence already rankled him enough. 

“Waxer.”

“Sir?” He stopped teasing the youngling to look at Cody. 

“Escort Aishah to her rooms and organize help for Quicten. I’ll be in the hangar. The pilots should be ready shortly.” Waxer gave a quick salute and ushered Aishah from the room. 

As the door closed, she could see Cody turn to the Admiral. Round two… or fifty.

The pair didn’t make it far. Aishah slid against the wall, sterile durasteel spinning until her vision blurred a hazy mixture of gray and white. For a moment, everything went black, then a heavy hand on her shoulder shot the world back into view. She shuttered a breath and held herself still as panic grew through her veins. 

“You want me to carry you?” Waxer kneeled by her side.

Aishah rubbed at her chest. 

“I just need a moment.”

“Maybe-”

“What’s going on?” She couldn’t see him, but a shadow blocked the right side of her vision. 

“She got dizzy.” Waxer paused, taking notice of how she rubbed at her chest. “Take her to Quic?”

“No.” Cody sighed at her stubborn refusal. “I just want to go to my room. Please.” Aishah closed her eyes and counted her breaths. 

“Alright,” Cody’s voice was soft. “Take her to her room, Waxer.”

The Lieutenant nodded and carefully lifted her up. She clenched her eyes shut as a roll of nausea boiled in her stomach. Thankfully, he wore his gray’s today, no armor to insulate his heat and it helped to battle against the natural cold of space. 

When they reached her floor, Aishah called out to Cody. 

“Yes?” He stopped the elevator short of closing. Feeling her hesitancy, Cody added, “you can speak freely, Aishah. I don’t mind.” 

She smiled a bit at that. 

“Don’t forget that Master Kenobi entrusts you to watch his back. That’s why your Marshall Commander - not the Admiral.” Aishah turned her face, eyes still closed, resting her cheek on Waxer’s shoulder. 

The elevator doors slid shut with a click. 

“Thank you, Aishah.” Waxer shifted the kid in his arms and tapped the console to open her door. “The Commander needed to hear that.”

Aishah mumbled something inaudible. He set her down, pulling the covers up to her chin. To be sure she’d stay warm - something she’d always had an issue with - he grabbed a spare blanket from her chair and draped it over her. 

Satisfied, he left. 

* * *

“Please, Aishah, I’d much rather you put your abilities to helping the others,” Kenobi protested the healer’s touch.

“I’ve done as much as I could.” Finally, she sat back to examine the newly sealed skin. 

His eyes danced over her sunken eyes and sickly complexion. Obviously, someone was abusing their diet and sleep schedule. 

“You need rest,” voice soft, he reached out to pat her hand.

“I’ve been sending her to her room.” Quicten walked up behind her and handed her her cane. 

“I can’t sleep.” Her eyes trailed over the cots, many still asleep. 

Kenobi returned a few cycles back, broken bones and a torn ACL, but whole. Thanks to Aishah, he managed to avoid the bacta tanks. The medic always insisted, just to be safe, but Kenobi refused to take up unnecessary space. 

Speaking of taking unnecessary space, Kenobi turned to Quicten. 

“I think-”

“No.” Before an argument could be made, the medic turned to check on the others. 

Kenobi sighed, absentmindedly patting Aishah’s hand. He could feel her distress. Something they had yet to touch on. 

“Aishah, whatever you need to let out, you can tell me in full confidence.” He shifted closer, there were many ears in the med-bay and closed eyes did not equate to sleeping. 

She settled her head by his shoulder, facing the wall behind him. 

“Why are they so disliked?” Kenobi scowled. He figured the stench of death had upset her. “At the hospital, a few clones were there. On some kind of job. They had to hear how they were spoken about. The nurses were hardly subtle and the doctors belittled them.”

_Far more than me_.

But she kept that thought to herself. 

“What happened?” Cody rarely spoke out against the disrespect. It took a bit of prying and investigation on Kenobi’s part to narrow down which of the staff gave the most trouble. 

“The Admiral was… very condescending. Going behind the Commander’s back and then telling him like it was nothing.” _Oh, dear._ “He was very insistent on doing the opposite of Cod- the Commander’s orders.” Aishah tucked her chin in a bit. 

She felt like a tattletale. 

“I see.” Most kept their insubordination behind closed doors and deserted corridors. 

“Can’t you do something about it?” She dared a quick glance his way. 

“I can and I will,” Kenobi reassured her. Though, he learned that direct intervention didn’t always turn out the best results. “Go eat.”

Aishah nodded. She walked down, hovering near one cot in particular. Boil. He’d been removed from the tank a few hours prior, but yet to wake. One of the few that Quicten was honestly worried about. 

Kenobi weaseled his way out of Quicten’s unyielding hold sometime later. There were others still held up in the barracks and those fit for duty were making due in the rec center. He could at least free up one bed. 

Limping down the hallway, he stopped just outside Aishah’s door. She should be resting but as she said, she couldn’t sleep. 

“Master Kenobi,” Aishah answered the door at the first knock. 

The bags under her eyes tore at his heart. 

“May I?” She stepped aside to let him into the dimly lit room. 

Aishah headed for her bed, giving up her desk chair. He saw the open datapad, her reading glasses set beside it, and the list of casualties pulled up. How many names were on that list she knew?

He made a mental note to block her access. She shouldn’t see that. But, honestly, she shouldn’t see half the things in that med-bay and he made a second note to speak with Master Windu.

Rather than sit in the chair, Kenobi sat next to her on the bed and wrapped his good arm around her shoulders. She snuggled into his side. 

“We don’t have to talk,” always best to start with reassurances, “but I understand how you feel.”

Puzzled, she gazed up at him from under wet lashes. “It’s hard to spend time - eat, laugh, care for - those that could be gone the next day.”

“They usually bounce back so fast…” Quicten organized the med-bay by priorities and Aishah generally kept away from the critical. “I guess I never thought that there are the ones that never make it to the med-bay,” Boil had nearly been one had Longshot not dragged him to the transports, broken arm be damned, “and the ones that never make it out.” She tucked herself further into his side. 

Quicten kept the adult decisions to the adults. Only the things Aishah could deal with were handed to her, but with the chaos of this last battle, she had been exposed to far more gruesome things than the terminally ill in the hospital or raging, grieving families. 

“A heavy thought,” he noted aloud, feeling her nod. “They think the same about the Jedi. They see our power, our skill, and think that we will outlive them in this war. It took one close call for that brutal realization to set in. I, like them, am touchable by death.”

The air thick, wrapped around them like a fur blanket. Warm, but dead. 

“Those in the med-bay now will recover. Push your grief and fear aside.” He coaxed her into relaxing. “Push it aside and feel them. Their strength is growing. Their pain is subsiding.”

“Why can’t the others see this? Even some of the other Jedi fail to see it.”

“I don’t know.” He patted the side of her head, running his fingers through her hair. 

Stars. Moving stars of personality and emotion. Bundles of light. Their core, a fire of determination and righteous fury. 

Kenobi watched as they moved about their own axis. Cody, bright as ever, strolled down the hall. He felt his Commander’s attention turn toward the door before he heard the knock. 

Aishah must have felt his presence because she didn’t jump at the sudden break of silence. Not even fluttering her eyes open. 

“Duty calls,” he sighed, not yet pulling away.

She smiled at him, despite everything.

“Thank you, Master Kenobi.”


	5. Baby Jedi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure everyone knows what 'vod' means but for future reference, all translations will be given beforehand. That way you don't have to go to the bottom then back to reading. I know some like to familiarize themselves with meanings before beginning to read. 
> 
> Also, if you notice extra spaces around the italicized words, I apologize. I have no idea why it's adding spaces when I copy this in but I am trying to catch it when it does it.

An icy world spun below, just within view of the hangar’s window. Troopers moved around the bay in unhurried pieces. Nothing to do but wait. A call of reinforcements could come at any moment. 

Quicten ordered her away, the droids keeping a careful eye on those on the cots. He needed to finish the paperwork that came with it. 

Of course, she would protest. When the fighting came to an end, they would be sending medical supplies along. She helped log and transport the crates onto the ships. 

A good use of the Force. 

Aishah meditated on the stack of crates. They would give her a good view of the happenings around her. Conversations fading in and out of her hearing range. 

She closed her eyes and reached out to the Force. A somberness engulfed her. It strained along the bonds, those on the planet below, those on the orbiting battleships. 

Only Quicten and a few “shinies” she recognized. Everyone else traveled to the battles below. 

Meditating would evade her for now. 

“ _Mercy, peace, and justice_ ,” her soft melody echoed out into the hangar. 

“ _Cherish and protect us_.” Several stopped to watch her.

“ _Battle-born, they send us_.” Others continued on, humming to her tune.

“ _Covered in our noble blood_.” Radiating a sort of soft grief, her song touched those around her. 

She repeated the verse a few more times. Some settled by the base of the crates. Their conversations were soft and short. 

“Aishah?” Quicten approached with unwarranted caution. 

She opened her eyes, ready to question him, but caught the sight of dozing troopers first. They settled around, leaning on their _vod_. 

“Yes?” He climbed to where she sat.

“Are you okay?” Quic reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “That was a… that was a sad song.”

“I only know that verse.” Aishah shrugged. “The Force is somber.”

“From the fighting below.”

“Yeah.” It took its toll on her. 

Ahsoka had pointed it out the first time they met. The padawan came to the med-bay interested in watching Aishah work. They got along well enough, though the healer was rather timid. Ahsoka tried to break the ice, telling of her adventures out on the field and the shenanigans of the 501st. Aishah listened intently, a spark in her eye at the tellings of Echo and Fives. 

“I wish you were there.” The young Togruta picked at her food during one meal. “You could have been a huge help.” Dogma didn’t walk with much of a limp anymore, but changes in the weather left him aching. 

Aishah only answered with a small smile.

“You would have healed him right up.” 

“Maybe,” she doubted she would have survived such an ambush, her cane pressed against her leg. “But, I don’t have to be there. You would be there.”

“I suck at healing.”

“I did too, at first,” Aishah gently nudged Ahsoka, “but, you have something to motivate you.” Her gaze went to the troopers around them, a mix of gold and blue. 

“I guess.”

“I can teach you a bit. About how I heal. Might be useful…” Aishah trailed off, unsure as Ahsoka just stared at her. 

The idea had startled Ahsoka, but she agreed nonetheless. 

It was during a shared meditation session that Ahsoka mentioned it. How the Force moved around her and moved her. 

“Your presence in the Force is... strong? Like…” She struggled to describe it. “Like you’re in the ocean. Every ripple, every wave, pushes you.” 

“It’s very different, isn’t it?” Aishah gave her a sad smile. “Much different than your Master’s.”

“Sort of… Skyguy… He’s bigger. Brighter.”

“Like a supernova,” Aishah supplied. 

“Yeah, it gets a bit overwhelming at times.”

“And I’m more of a black hole. Spinning in circles.” The two grew quiet. “It’s how I heal, though.” Being so intimately connected with the Force at such a young age came with its advantages as much as its disadvantages. There were reasons such a connection was forged over time. 

“Doesn’t that…” Ahsoka stopped, watching as Aishah rubbed at her chest. 

Master Kenobi had pulled Ahsoka aside to privately warn her beforehand. Not only of the condition but it’s secret as well. That knowledge hurt her heart to hear the eleven-year-old’s next defeated words. 

“I’m always in some kind of pain.”

Ahsoka didn’t speak much of their time together, but when their battalions met up during downtime, she offered Aishah to meditate together. Just on the off chance it hurt less. 

Aishah had only compliments for the padawan. Her strength and tenacity something to be admired. And Ahsoka always had a good story to tell, often at either her master's or the troops' expense. 

“I’m sorry.” Quicten knew he could nothing but offer some semblance of comfort. “They’ll be back soon.”

“I know.” She smiled his way.

A holovid of the 212th healer, legs crisscrossed and sitting on a stack of crates, troopers dozing off at the sound of her sad song, spread like fire. 

“She’s so small!”

“Like a little angel,” another added. 

A group of troopers were huddled together, the wind frosty against their skin. They refused to break, even as a gust had their teeth chattering. 

“They’re quite enamored with Aishah.” General Kenobi watched in pure amusement at the sight. 

“Seems so,” Cody barely glanced away from the battle plans. A small ceasefire was nothing to celebrate over. 

Further into the night, new whispers emerged. All rather innocent, really. Wooley merely made an observation. Aishah appeared tiny in comparison to the stack of crates and the troopers around her. A few agreed, not much thought to it. They _knew_ her height. How could they no notice an eleven-year-old at four feet and three inches dwarfed by their stature’s shadow? She craned her neck to look at them in the eye and often settled to stare at their shoulder plates. 

Then, the thought began to spiral. She currently stood on the Negotiator, famed for its competent, charming, but at times crazy General and tough-as-nails Marshall Commander. Leaders of the Third Systems Army. The entirety of the 212th battalion close by - though most were planetside at present. 

A battalion that found themselves in the crosshairs of failed diplomacy. A battalion close to another battalion, _also_ known for being in the crosshairs. It was part of the job description.

And Aishah was on the smaller side. Eleven. Using a cane after intense healing sessions or long cycles. 

So, when the conflict had been resolved, the Republic’s hold on the planet secure, Kenobi watched as the troopers ushered Aishah into the rec room. Confused, she followed them to the center where mats had been set up. They encouraged her to shed some of her robes, to give her better movement. 

“I really can’t-”

The troopers ignored her protests. They started with basic stances, like showing her how to properly punch. Something she already knew but followed their instruction nonetheless. 

Kenobi continued to watch for the next hour or so before intervening. Basic movements that didn’t tax her were fine, but as they started to pressure into something more complex, he stopped them. 

“That’s enough now.” Kenobi crossed the room, troopers all around stiffening at his approach. With a gentle smile and wave, they returned to their exercises. 

The small group surrounding the mat straightened up into a salute. He waved them down, coming to stand by Aishah and placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. 

“While the lessons on basics were refreshing, she has been trained to defend herself.” The general gestured to the lightsaber attached to her belt. “She is formidable in the Force as well, as I’m sure you CMO could attest to.” He shot a pointed look to Cody who had been watching the entire thing. 

“Yeah, but…” Waxer tampered off as Boil nudged him in the ribs.

Kenobi raised a questioning brow and waved him on. 

“She’s eleven.” The Lieutenant felt lame at the excuse, but stammered on, “what if she’s attacked and-and she just finished a tough healing session?”

“Using the Force is a very taxing endeavor for her,” he smiled, kind in his explanation. “It’s physically and mentally taxing, just as much as any physical form of exercise.”

“So the training is pointless?” Cody spoke up then, rather firm in his questioning. 

“No…” Kenobi scrambled for words. “Not pointless, just unnecessary. She goes through training at the Temple. A refresher here is not pointless.”

“You said physical exercise was difficult.” Cody narrowed his eyes on the general. “Because of her dedication to Force healing? Or her health?”

The bluntness of the question shocked Aishah initially. She tucked her chin to her chest, avoiding curious gazes. If not for the warm hand on her shoulder, she would have ran for her room in a manner belittling a Jedi’s courage. 

Kenobi faced no difficulty concerning the question. 

“Commander…”

“I - we need to know. Is there something we should know?” A crowd formed around them. “If something happens, onboard or planetside, we need to know what to do.”

“I do appreciate the concern-”

“She’s eleven and walks with a cane. She’s a humanoid as far as I know and-”

“Hybrid, specifically,” Kenobi corrected, “but continue.” Cody narrowed his eyes at the minute interruption. 

“She has a special diet. Her sleep cycle consists of a five-hour rest after late-meal, an awake period for four hours - two of which are spent meditating with you - and another eight hours of rest.” He stunned Kenobi. Who knew he would have analyzed every bit of detail available to him?

Kenobi realized he shouldn’t be surprised. He knew his commander well at this point and anything less would have been concerning. 

“We just don’t know what to do.” A bit quiet, Wooley peeked around Cody. “We are at war and-”

“I won’t get in the way.” A soundless whimper radiated from the troopers around her. 

“In the way?” A humorless chuckle sounded behind the Jedi.

Quicten pushed his way past the circle of off-duty troopers. In his hand, a datapad. Someone called him from med-bay, apparently. 

“Let’s see, you’ve been with us roughly a half of Coruscant’s standard year. In that time, you have healed injuries bacta tanks could not cure in a night cycle within a few short sessions. You’ve healed over a thousand wounded, saving the lives of hundreds of _our_ brothers,” murmurs of agreement flowed around them. “This is not like your time at the hospital. Your time and effort have been duly noted and reported to the Council monthly.”

Quicten waved the datapad, showcasing the numbers.

The praise settled on her shoulders, equally light and heavy. 

“But,” Cody stepped forward and kneeled so as to not tower over her, “we know something is amiss and we can’t protect you if we don’t know what’s okay and what’s not.”

Kenobi raised a brow at his reasoning. They had been told everything, but the cause of Aishah’s troubles. 

“Commander-” Kenobi rarely took such a demanding tone, one bordering the possibility of consequences should it be ignored. 

“I’m dying.” The General snapped his jaw shut at the confession.

“You… you’re ill?” A cloud of anger and confusion swirled in the air. 

“No, Lieutenant.” She smiled timidly at Waxer’s confusion, “I’m not just sick, I am dying.” The silence fell like cold water. 

“Perhaps-”

Kenobi held up a silent hand, stopping Quicten’s chain of thought. With a reassuring nod from Aishah, he sighed.

“Aishah has a rare Force-related illness.” Tension filled the air, like any time the Force or Jedi were mentioned. “Her body naturally draws in the Force, creating pressure on her body. A physical presence.”

“The Force is killing her?” Horrid whispers followed. 

Aishah stiffened under their gazes. 

“No, no.” Kenobi stopped their thought. “The Force is within all life forms and is very neutral. It’s a connection. It’s how one uses that connection that determines Light and Dark.” 

The men did not appear won over. 

“Cody,” the Commander straightened, even at the informal call, “you know how many times you’ve had to carry me from the battlefield after I’ve used the Force extensively?”

“Yes…” Irritation coated his answer. 

“The Force can be pushed or pulled on, but to do so takes energy.” 

“I’m constantly using the Force,” Aishah looked around at them. Their emotions bounced like a ball, lighting up different tiles of emotion as it went. 

“On yourself?”

“Subconsciously, yes,” as he spoke, eyes returned to the General. “It puts pressure on her heart, lungs, and thorax. She needs to redirect it elsewhere like Force healing or meditation.”

“But that takes energy… energy her body is already using,” Quicten thought for a moment. “So, special diet for high calories and protein. Plenty of rest…” He typed away into the datapad. 

Discussion separated out into pairs and small groups. Quicten spoke with other present medics and Ghost Company huddled around Cody. Kenobi smiled as he caught bits and pieces of conversation. 

No uproar. No protests. No voting to boot her back to the Temple. 

“Not so bad?”

“Not so bad,” she agreed. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how to write Ahsoka with Aishah, honestly. Sorry if it's bad and rushed, but they aren't in the same peer group so it's not like they hanged out or have mutual friends at the Temple before this >.<


End file.
